Near to You
by MissMandS
Summary: The forest is almost silent; bordering on the edge between quiet and silent. There's the sound of animals: yawning, stretching and climbing and the sounds of a river flowing steadily. But there is also the sound of humming. Bilbo sits perched on a branch, her legs swinging back and forth as she scans the forest floor. Every few seconds her wings give a nervous flutter.
1. Chapter 1

The forest is almost silent; bordering on the edge between quiet and silent. There's the sound of animals: yawning, stretching and climbing and the sounds of a river flowing steadily. But there is also the sound of humming. Bilbo sits perched on a branch, her legs swinging back and forth as she scans the forest floor. Every few seconds her wings give a nervous flutter; waiting for the sound of footsteps crunching across the leaves. With each scuttle of the leaves her wings flutter excitedly but slow down and stop when they see it's only a squirrel or a rabbit.

She's been watching since she was a child. It started from far away, hidden behind a tree. Her fingers clutched at the bark and she watched with baited breath as the man walked through the forest. He never noticed her, focused on whatever task he was trying to accomplish. Bilbo would watch him and followed after him, footsteps silent as she scurried across the forest floor. She would follow him; hidden behind trees with baited breath as he looked over his shoulders or towards the sky. She followed him until he wandered beyond the borders of the Shire and then she would walk home with shoulders sagging.

As she grew she moved from hiding behind trees to hiding in them. She would crouch on branches and watched as he crossed the forest floor. And she would follow after him, her wings beating gently as she stopped on a new branch.

She hears him before she sees him First comes the sound of a startled squirrel as it dashes up a tree trunk and then the shriek of an annoyed bird; announcing his arrival. Then come the crunch of boots across the leaves and finally she sees him peering out from behind a tree, looking across the forest floor. Worry springs up in her chest as she looks closer at him. He's leaning heavily against the tree; his fingers clenching as he takes a shaky breath. The right thing to do would be to help him. But right now all she can hear are all the voices of her relatives telling her time and time again how dangerous humans are: 'they'll steal your wings, cut them right off', 'gruff, nasty creatures' and 'remember what they did to our people'. This human is not like the others though she hopes as she leaps down, wings fluttering to keep herself afloat as she navigates towards the ground.

At the sound of wings beating his head jerks up. Bilbo hesitates inches from the ground, watching as he reaches for his waist then stops and hisses through clenched teeth as he grabs at his side.

"You're hurt." Bilbo says dryly as she lands. The man's head snaps up and he grips his side tighter.

"Who are you? What are you?" The man demands. Bilbo considers saying that she's been watching him since she was a child but that didn't seem like an appropriate answer right now. Right now any sort of talking seems like a bad idea when he's leaning against a tree for support. Bilbo sighs and grabs his arm, pushing him carefully to the ground. The man goes with little resistance, watching her with narrowed eyes as she crouches beside him.

"Let me help you and then I'll tell you." Bilbo promises. The man stares at her, his hand still clutching his side as she waits. With a sigh he lifts his hand away and allows her to roll his shirt up. She wrinkles her nose at the wound; biting back a gag as the putrid smell hits her.

"How did you get this?" Bilbo asks.

"I was attempting to stop a thief. As you can see things did not exactly go as I planned for them to."

"Have you been treating it?" Bilbo demands.

"I cleaned it at an inn and bandaged it but I fear it didn't do much as you can see." The wound is a bright, angry red and gives off a putrid smell; leaking greenish yellow puss.

"There's a plant around here that can help you; if you wait here I'll bring it right back to you." Bilbo promises. The man looks doubtful but nods and leans back against a tree. Bilbo turns and runs; humming to herself as she scans the floor. It doesn't take her long to find it and she snatches it up with an eager grin.

"I found it!" She crows to the man then stops short when she sees his eyes are closed. Worry seizes her chest once more as she hurries towards him, crouching and listening. His breathing is even and she sighs as she sticks the kingsfoil into her mouth, chewing. As she chews she takes a chance to observe him. It feels funny to her that she's been watching him for years but has never gotten a good look at him. His skin is tanned from months of living on the road; his hair a dark brown hangs towards his shoulders and the stubble strange compared to the beardless faces that are spread throughout the Shire.

Bilbo looks down at the wound once more and sighs as she applies the kingsfoil and begins to dig through his pack for bandages. She grabs them with a triumphant smile and sets to wrapping up his side. He remains unmoving through the process save for the steady rise and fall of his chest. When she finishes she tosses the bandages back into his pack and scoots back to sit by him.

"I'll just wait here until you wake up. So I know you're not dead." Bilbo says and crosses her legs. She sits there throughout the day, listening to the steady, even sound of his breathing and watching the rise and fall of his chest. Sometimes she tells him a story and other times she sings quietly beneath her breath. It's getting dark when she hears the sound of footsteps and the quiet fluttering of wings. She stands up and crouches over the man, her wings fluttering out and then in to cover him from view. For a while she lingers there then leans forward to press a careful kiss to his forehead. As she steps away from him she reaches up and plucks a feather from her wings; ignoring the sting as she lays it atop his pack. The footsteps are coming closer now and with it Hamfast's worried voice.

"Bilbo? Miss Bilbo? Where are you?"

"I'm coming Hamfast, don't worry." Bilbo calls and with one last look at the man runs away. She doesn't look back as she runs; not even when she runs into Hamfast with a loud smack. He reaches out and grabs her arms, steadying her. His eyes are wide with worry; his wings fluttering nervously.

"What are you doing out here so late? Your father has been worried sick about you." Hamfast demands as he lets go of her arms. He looks her up and down, stopping as he looks towards her wings.

"Bilbo! You're missing a feather. I can see it, don't try to deny it."

"We're going to be late for dinner if we don't hurry up and get home Hamfast. Come on; let's not worry my father anymore." Bilbo says and slips an arm around his shoulders, guiding him out of the forest.

* * *

This is what happens when I have read one too many wing fics, watched one too many Disney movies and have a big headache. The title comes from the song Near to You by A Fine Frenzy. And this is going to become a series.

And if you're really quiet you can hear the sound of me being unable to sleep and dancing over what little bits and shreds of canon remain.


	2. Chapter 2

Bilbo knows the second that she steps through the door that she's in trouble. There is no smells, no sounds of dinner being made. The only sound is that of a quill being put down, a huff and then her father's hurried footsteps coming down the hall. Bilbo stares at the closed door of Bag End and listens as the footsteps come closer and closer.

"Where have you been? You leave early this morning before breakfast and left me only a note; not bothering to say when you would be back. Thank Yavanna for Hamfast being here and knowing where you'd be." Bungo looks pale, his lips pursed in a thin line and his eyes narrowed as he stares down at her.

"I'm sorry papa, I lost track of time and didn't realize how late it was getting." Bilbo says and watches as her father deflates; sighing and allowing his shoulders to sag as he gives a tired smile.

"Did you at least thank Hamfast for me?"

"Of course I did. Come on and I'll help you make dinner."

She doesn't look like her father, not very much anyways. Bilbo looked more like her late mother; her features much more Tookish than Baggins. Bungo wasn't unattractive by any stretch of the imagination. He's quite handsome for a hobbit; with a well fed stomach, coppery brown foot hair and smile that could light a twinkle in his eyes. It made sense that he had wings like a cardinal; a bright, vibrant red that stood out among the green of the Shire. It was a thing of envy to have such wings though her father never bragged or showed them off.

Bilbo's wings were nothing like her fathers; no brightness that stood out against the greenness of the Shire. Hers were the charcoal gray of a dove; speckled and spotted with white on some of her feathers. They flutter now as she stares down into the bowl of soup that she stirs. Behind her Bungo walks around the table, checking time and time again to make sure that everything is in place.

"What's bothering you?" The question makes her wings flutter more; threatening to come flap forward and hide her face.

"I'm sorry that I worried you today."

"Having a child who wants to adventure and forgets about the time because they've lost themselves in their own world is a part of marrying a Took. I knew when your mother gave birth to you that you were bound to be adventurous like her; maybe even more." Bilbo slows down her stirring, trying to carefully pick her next words.

"So you think then that perhaps I could venture into Bree? It would only be for a day or two and then," Bungo slams a fork down onto the table and Bilbo winces, thinking of the marks that will surely be in the wood by the end of dinner.

"Bilbo. You know how I feel about you venturing beyond the borders of the Shire. It's dangerous out there."

"Not all of it is dangerous papa; there are good people out there. Not every human is bad and evil. Not all of them are out to take our wings and sell them like a prize. Papa. Not everything outside of the Shire is bad."

"Were the humans who took your mothers wings and left her to bleed out in an alleyway after she helped them not bad? Were they not evil?" The words bleed into the space that's now threatening to come between them. Bilbo clutches the spoon tighter and tighter in her hand until she can feel it digging into her skin. Bungo looks pale once more; his face ashen as the blood slowly drains.

"Not every human is evil papa. I've not got much of an appetite; I'll let you finish the soup." Bilbo says tightly. She brushes past him and out of the door; wings fluttering with anger this time as she moves back towards the forest.

* * *

The man is in the same spot she left him, still sound asleep. Bilbo does a quick check; lifting his shirt and examining the wound and pressing her fingers against his neck. She's in the middle of counting when his breathing changes and she looks up to see his eyes fluttering.

"You fell asleep." Bilbo pulls her hand away.

"And you stayed by me this entire time?"

"No, my gardener came searching for me. I went home for dinner but my father and I got into an argument; we've had it several times over the years since my mother's death." She winces as she finishes talking, shaking her head apologetically. The man's face remains stoic as he slowly sits up, leaning back against the tree trunk for support.

"You never answered my question earlier. Who are you? And what are you?"

"I didn't answer because you fell asleep before I could. But I am Bilbo Baggins of the Shire and I am a hobbit."

"I was told that hobbits were nothing more than legends; something only the elves were able to see. And if they saw a hobbit it was quite an image to behold."

"We're nothing more than legends because we choose to be. In our wandering days there were many of us. We befriended elves and men; I believe my mother's ancestors maybe even befriended a couple dwarves. But the thing about having no home; being a wanderer who goes from place to place is that nobody usually cared if we were hurt or if we needed help."

"Humans started the tradition of hunting us for sport. To take our wings and then leave us to bleed out on the forest floor or a tavern where people saw what happened but stepped over us. Because they wanted to see the prize, to admire and gaze upon the wings that someone had stolen. As for the elves fear poisoned the friendships." The man's stoic face has changed and she sees a small flicker of disgust cross through his eyes as he looks at her wings.

"They would just cut them off and leave you to bleed out?"

"Sometimes we could save them. If the humans had left; sometimes we could pick them up and carry them far enough to safety. And we would try to save them. But most of the times they lingered nearby, waiting in the hopes that more of us would come." An almost smile twitches at the corners of the man's lips as he looks from her wings to her face.

"All this fear, all these years of poisoned friendships and pushed into being nothing more than a legend yet you saved me. And you sit here now with no fear on your face."

"I'm not afraid of you after all I've been watching you since I was nothing more than a fauntling. You would pass through this forest every year around the time of my birthday. I would come during the week and wait for you." The look on his face is a cross between wonder and slight horror, sending Bilbo into fits of laughter as she watches him.

"You weren't very observant you know? Then again hobbits are very light on their feet and on our wings so don't blame yourself."

"Was it you leaving all those gifts then over the years? I found them in the same place each time; always something different. I still carry the stones you know. Well I carry some of them; over the years it became heavy and I would take only a couple."

"Yes, I had no idea what sort of courting gifts humans gave. And while my father built Bag End for my mother, I certainly couldn't see myself doing that." Her stomach chooses that movement to give a particularly loud grumble, reminding her that she's currently missing dinner. As she scowls down at her stomach the man digs through his pack until he produces something wrapped up.

"Here. It's Lembas bread; one small bite is enough to fill the stomach of a grown man." He pulls out his own; holding it up for her to see. As Bilbo unwraps the bread her wings give an anxious flutter. When she tries a bite the fluttering grows louder and more excited as she lets out a squeal.

"Does fluttering indicate you like the bread or hate it?"

"I've had Lembas bread before when I was a fauntling. My mother had some from one of her adventures and kept it for special occasions. I forgot all about it."

"Well then I am glad you can have some again." They eat together in silence; the only sounds her wings and the occasional animal sound from around the. It's as Bilbo is preparing to hand back her Lembas that a thought occurs to her. She pulls the bread back to her chest; waiting until the man is looking her in the face.

"I hardly believe this is fair. I helped you; told you my name and we've shared food yet I don't know what yours is."

"Aragorn."

"That's a kingly sounding name." The smile he gives her is nearly missed by Bilbo as she brushes the crumbs off her trousers. It's a tight, somewhat bitter smile that doesn't meet his eyes.

"You have no idea."

* * *

So now you all know a little background on the hobbits and why they're so distrustful of humans and just kind of other races in general. Belladonna's death will be expanded on later and I plan for maybe next chapter Bilbo going with Hamfast and Bell to show them Aragorn. Picture when the lemurs in Dinosaur find the egg.

Also sassy Bilbo is sassy.


	3. Chapter 3

Bringing Hamfast and Bell to meet Aragorn doesn't exactly go as Bilbo plans. It takes several hours of convincing, begging and promising for Hamfast and Bell to follow her into the forest. On Hamfast's arm is a basket full of food, his arm wrapped protectively around Bell as Bilbo leads them deeper and deeper into the forest.

"Bilbo why exactly are we here? I know you have something you want to show us but you haven't told us what yet." Bell says after she nearly falls over a tree root.

"It's a surprise but you have to remain calm and please don't panic whatever you do." This has Hamfast sighing as he wraps his arm tighter around her.

"You make it sound as if you've found an injured baby orc."

"Not quite a baby orc."

"Oh wonderful, she's found an adult orc." Hamfast groans then stops, his eyes wide. He drops the basket, reaching out and grabbing hold of Bilbo's shirt yanks her back. Bilbo opens her mouth to demand to know what he's doing only to have Hamfast clap his hand over her mouth.

"Don't move either of you. Someone has been here—it looks like a, like a," Hamfast swallows and she feels him press his hand harder against her mouth. Aragorn's things are still on the forest floor but he's gone, his footsteps leading down towards the stream. Bilbo sticks her tongue out from between her lips, swiping her hand across Hamfast's hand. He lets out a yelp and jerks his hand away; glaring at her.

"I know there's a human here. He's the reason that I've brought you here; to meet him. I promise you that he won't hurt us." Bilbo whispers and takes their hands in hers, squeezing. Hamfast and Bell still look doubtful despite her reassurances.

"If I go and get him and bring him back. Promise me that you'll at least give him a chance."

"Fine Bilbo, we'll give him a chance. Btu the first sign of danger you're both to run and get out of here. Understood?" Bilbo considers telling Hamfast that he wouldn't stand a chance against Aragorn but nods and runs towards the stream.

"I see that you survived the night." Bilbo calls as she comes up to the stream. Aragorn rests at the edge of the stream, his trouser legs rolled up and his shirt off. She kneels down beside him and begins to check his wound. It's not as red and does not give off such a pungent smell this time though he still lets out a hiss through clenched teeth when she feels the skin around it.

"I survived without any problems save for a squirrel who decided to get into my pack." Aragorn says as she steps away from him.

"Since you survived I would like for you to meet a couple other hobbits. My gardener Hamfast and Bell Goodchild, well she'll be a Gamgee soon enough like Hamfast. We brought some food and maybe you'll believe that hobbits aren't just a legend."

"Will they be wary of me?"

"Of course they will be. I was wary of you the first thing I saw you." Bilbo says good-naturedly as they walk back towards Hamfast and Bell.

The two don't run or scream when they see Aragorn. Bell's eyes widen a bit at his height and Hamfast tries to muster up a glare as Bilbo sits down. She ignores the tension in the air; humming as she digs through the basket and begins pulling out food.

"Aragorn this is Hamfast Gamgee and this is Bell Goodchild; both of them hobbits." Aragorn politely inclines his head but makes no moves to scoot closer to any of them. They eat in silence for a while, the only sounds chewing and the occasional rustle of feathers.

"How do hobbits…I mean do expecting parents know what their children's wings will be like?" Aragorn finally asks.

"Not really, it's kind of a toss-up. Sometimes a child will have the wings of one of their parents or very similar. Or the child will have wings that reflect their personalities, their traits and will be nothing like their parents." Bell says.

"Aye and it's a very painful process to get them. The first thing that happens is you get a fever that just won't break or go down. Your back becomes very sore and your shoulder blades look like they're swelling up. And a couple days later they do." Hamfast adds on.

"You have to lie on your stomach and just wait. While you do that others, usually family and close friends of the hobbit will bring gifts. It happens suddenly; there's a sharp pain in your shoulders and the skin feels like it's stretching more than it ever before. The wings come out together and it's the worst pain you'll ever feel. The skin stretches tighter and tighter until suddenly you feel the pain turn into a stabbing. There's a cracking sound and the wing tips break the skin."

"All you can do is lay there as it happens. They're soaked with blood and sticky, desperate to flex out and dry. They flutter or stretch or just even ruffle and it's the worst part of it all. Because suddenly the pain is so intense and all you can do is fall forward and pass out. The next few days are spent washing the wings, waiting for the fever to break and just learning how to adjust." Aragorn looks pale as Hamfast comes to finish describing the process. The three hobbits share a smile and look back at him with amusement.

"It really is not so bad once the whole process is over. That is truly the worst part of it all. After that," Bilbo trails off. After that hobbits are sentenced to a life of solitude, getting married and having children. Watching their children get wings all while knowing they would never be more than legends too.

It's as she's thinking about this her wings wrap around her head, the tips resting on her forehead. Aragorn looks startled and turns towards Hamfast and Bell for help. The two look concerned, reaching out and placing their hands on her shoulders.

"Bilbo is everything all right?" Bell whispers.

"I'm fine." The answer is muffled behind her wings.

"Bell would you mind if I escorted you back? I've got to get to work on the garden, saw some nasty weeds that won't make Mister Bungo the least bit happy. Bilbo I'll see you later, yes?" He waits for her nod before he gathers up the remaining food and basket; walking off with Bell.

"Am I to assume this is another hobbit thing?" Aragorn asks as Bilbo's wings remain in place. She sighs and lets them fall away from her face.

"It's something my wings enjoy doing when I'm embarrassed or overthinking things. After we get our wings hobbits are doomed to a life of being legends. We don't venture out of the Shire, staying there to have children and watch them have children. In between that we eat, drink, and smoke our pipes. My mother was adventurous you know. Belladonna Took."

"She wasn't content to sit in the Shire forever and loved adventures much to my father's displeasure. She didn't want to believe that all humans were evil and that there was some good in people. It was on the way home from Rivendell that she stopped to try and help a group of travelers. Two against one isn't fair especially when the two are full grown humans."

"Is it your belief now? That all humans are evil and wish to steal the wings from hobbits?"

"I remember the first time I saw you. I had all these ideas stuffed into my head of how bad humans were and to stay away from them. There was a rabbit caught up in a snare and you let it go and even checked it for injuries. I thought maybe if humans were more like you, maybe they wouldn't be so bad."

"You're a fool mistress hobbit if you believe that all humans are not bad."

"I'm a fool of a Took sometimes. But I am not that much of a fool that I believe all humans, all elves, and all dwarves are good. Who knows? There might be a good orc out there?" Aragorn looks amused as he leans forward, hand extended to brush over one of her wings. It flutters excitedly, wrapping around Bilbo's face.

"If there's a good orc then may we be the ones to meet him."

"And if they must take my wings then let it because I was protecting you from getting another wound." Bilbo says and leans forward. Aragorn mimics her movement and as their lips touch her wings wrap around their faces; shielding them.

* * *

Get ready because it's about to hurt. A lot


	4. Chapter 4

...I'm so sorry. There is some implied sexual content in this one. Just saying.

* * *

Things fall into a routine for Bilbo and Aragorn. She sneaks off in the mornings before the sun has risen and goes off to the forest. She sits down next to him most mornings while he's still asleep. She listens to his steady, even breathing and watches the rise and fall of his chest. When he wakes up, eyes bleary from sleep he reaches out, grabbing her waist and pulling her to him. Bilbo will lay with her head on his chest, wings fluttering and rustling with each movement of his hands on her back. She slips away in time to return to prepare first breakfast for her and her father who's just waking up.

In the afternoons she lingers around the Shire and in Bag End. She reads, brushes up on her Sindarian and sometimes goes to the market. Bungo watches over it all and Bilbo is relieved to note that there is no suspicious gleam in his eye. They're back to normal and there is no mention of her mother or talk of humans.

At nights she cooks dinner and supper, joining her father in the sitting room for a smoke afterwards. Eventually though Bungo stands up with a stretch, kisses her forehead and whispers his goodnights. Bilbo waits until she can hear his snores then she slips out and goes back to the forest.

At nights she sits with Aragorn and watches as he eats his dinner and tries her best to convince him to have supper. He lets her poke and prod at his wound which has almost completely healed. Between the pokes and prods he kisses at her forehead and traces the curves of her cheeks.

Tonight he's tracing down her cheeks and running his hand over her lip. Bilbo smiles at him and watches as his lips curve up in their own smile. She reaches up and traces the curves of his cheeks and down his lips, relishing in the prickle of his stubble. When he kisses her thumb she doesn't attempt to stop her happy hum as she pushes him back onto the ground.

He's careful in taking her clothes off; mindful of her wings which flutter nervously and even wrap themselves around her face a couple times. Rather than becoming annoyed he chuckles each time, running his pinky along the feathers to make them ruffle.

She has seen hobbits without their shirts before; lads who've grown sweaty from working in the summer sun and are desperate for some relief. They were more soft skin and lumpy curves than muscle though. Aragorn isn't rippling with muscle but he's not exactly soft either. Bilbo runs her fingers over muscle and tan, somewhat rough skin. He's hairier than she expects but finds it's a welcome surprise as she runs her hands over the hair on his chest and down his stomach.

Bilbo doesn't wonder about women he's laid with before, if he has. She pushes any thoughts of anyone else out of her mind and lets herself get lost to the tingles his calloused hands send over skin. With each pinch, tug on her nipples her toes curl in the dirt and her wings cover her eyes.

"Am I going to have to tie those wings down to your back?" Aragorn's tone is teasing as he lifts her to settle above him.

"You're the one causing them to do so. That would require you to stop touching me." Bilbo warns as he lowers her onto him. It's not painful but it's not exactly comfortable either. She feels stretched and a slight tightness. He holds her there, waiting for a nod, a kiss, anything to give him the go ahead.

It ends up being a kiss to his palm and she lets her head fall forward with a groan as he begins slowly rocking his hips up. The discomfort is only a momentary thing and is soon replaced with pleasure. The air is filled with a symphony of groans, gasps and even giggles when Aragorn sits up at the same time she leans down to kiss him. It ends with a head-butt and an aching forehead as the two laugh between kisses.

It ends with her fingers buried in the skin of his shoulders, her mouth against his neck placing open mouthed, sloppy kisses. With Aragorn thrusting his hips up at a desperate pace, his eyes clenched shut. Bilba comes undone first; with a gasp that dissolves into moans. Aragorn follows her with shaky breaths and a groan against her sweat soaked skin.

They don't move immediately, laying together and listening to the chittering of the squirrels; hum of the birds and the babbling of the stream until Bilbo sighs. It's getting later and later, the fire dying down and she has to get home. He helps her get dressed, careful as he slips her blouse back on and leaning down for a quick kiss to her forehead. It feels like a promise and Bilbo walks away with a rumpled clothes, messy hair and drying sweat on her skin.

* * *

Promises cannot always last forever she knows. It's as she steps through the door, still made of rumpled clothes, messy hair and drying sweat that she smells her father's pipe smoke and her stomach turns to ice. He doesn't walk to her this time but calls for her to come to him.

"Bilbo, we need to have a talk." It feels like the end.

"Yes papa?" She cannot meet his eye.

"I consider myself a reasonable hobbit, a decent hobbit even. We have rules set in place for a reason: to protect our children, ourselves, our race. I don't expect a lot of you Bilbo but I expect them to be obeyed. Is it true that you've been visiting a human man? And that you've been seeing him for years?"

"Yes papa." It feels like the end.

"You know the rules Bilbo; every hobbit here knows this."

"I was trying to save him papa. He had an injury and had I not treated him then he could have died."

"It would be one less human who tried to kill us."

"He didn't try to kill me! You don't understand papa, he's different than the others. He's," She wants to tell him everything but he cuts her off.

"They're all the same: spineless cowards, incapable of any feelings but greed and envy; intent on killing and stealing hobbits wings to show off. Have you lost your senses completely Bilbo? You're a hobbit and he is a human. Nothing good will ever come of this." The words are on the tip of her tongue but they won't come. They won't come to her. She can only stare at the floor as he stands up and walks towards her.

"You are never to see him again Bilbo. I can't lose you too." It feels like the end when he guides her towards her bedroom. When she lies down and cries, her hand over her mouth and her knees pulled up to her chest. She falls asleep with shaking shoulders and a snotty face.

In the morning she wakes up with sore, puffy and bloodshot eyes. Her face is sticky and her clothes feel disgusting. She wants to take a bath and just lie there forever. It's as she's standing up to make her way to the bath she turns to find Hamfast in the doorway.

"Bilbo…I…I," And it's clear as day on his face the guilt. It sends her into tears all over again as she orders him to go away.

After a week in her room Lobelia is sent in. It's been a week of tears and handkerchiefs, piling up by her bed, all of them filthier than the last. Lobelia regards the pile with disgust but says nothing as she pulls a chair up.

"Did your father ever tell you how your mother died?" Lobelia asks.

"Yes. She stopped to help some travelers and they overpowered her and killed her." Lobelia's sigh is long and almost sympathetic as she pulls her chair closer.

"No Bilbo that is not how it happened. Your mother had collapsed on the road from exhaustion, pushing herself in an attempt to beat a storm. Some children found her and were too young to realize, to understand. They pulled her feathers out and it wasn't until after it was too late they realized what they'd done. Rangers sent word to the elves and they brought her body to us." Bilbo doesn't hear the rest of her speech. She's standing on shaky legs, breathing heavily as she runs out of Bag End. She has to see Aragorn.

Bilbo ignores the stares and shouts as she runs towards the forest. She has to see him, has to get there before it's too late. She has to. When she arrives in the forest she stops short; chest heaving as she attempts to catch her breath. He's gone. There are no traces of Aragorn, no traces of him anywhere. He's gone. Completely and utterly gone.

Bilbo opens her mouth to call for him, to tell him to stop playing a joke, to do anything. But she can't because it hits her how quiet the forest is. There are no squirrels, no birds, not even any bugs. She can barely hear the sound of the stream over the roaring in her ears. It's too quiet.

Bilbo tries to swallow past the lump in her throat and takes a hesitant step back. From the leaves there is a rustle and a shushing. Bilbo turns and runs, the roaring in her ears drowned out by the sounds of an arrow flying past her. It hits the ground and she hears the angry shout of an unfamiliar voice.

"She's getting away!"

"Come on, hurry!"

There's no way to run fast enough when scared. Bilbo runs, sprints. She ignores the burn in her legs as she runs. She can't catch her breath to scream. She doubts that she could even scream with how raw her throat feels. It feels like the end when she trips over a tree root and lands with a thud. She screams then when she feels the heavy weight on her back of someone digging their knees in.

"It'll all be over soon little hobbit if you just lay still." The man says and she hears the awful sound of laughter. It's a poison threatening to claim her body as she screams and claws at the ground. The one man sits on her back, pinning her down while the other one draws a dagger.

It takes several attempts to cut them off. With each hack, she screams. With each curse, she screams. Her fingers claw the ground desperately. She's never felt so much pain. Getting her wings is nothing. The fever is nothing. It's nothing compared to the shredding sound as they finally come off. It's nothing compared to the goosebumps rising like hackles on her skin when she feels the blood soaking through her blouse.

And all she can do is scream no as she pounds the ground with her fists. All she can do is scream no and grab at the remaining feathers. All she can do is scream no when the rangers emerge from the bushes with weapons drawn. All she can do is scream no when one tries to stop the bleeding. All she can do is scream no when she sees Aragorn among them. All she can do is scream as she's carried to the Shire.

All she can do is scream no as healers work frantically to save her. As her father looks away and sobs loud enough his cries become interlaced with her screams. As they sew up her skin where her wings used to be. As a healer slips a sleeping draught between her lips. As she hears her father ordering the rangers away. When she hears Aragorn's muffled voice saying how sorry he is, that he never meant to lead them to her, to the Shire. She knows. It's definitely the end.

* * *

I AM SO SORRY! This will be one of the few times I am actually legitimately sorry. It's late and I am tired. So edits will come tomorrow or whenever I have time. Again, so sorry. Also I know that I haven't out rightly said Bilbo's age but she is of age here. Next chapter will be the last one.


	5. Chapter 5

Aragorn doesn't say anything at first when he enters the room. He only stands back and stares at her, his mouth turned down with a deep frown as he takes in the bloody bandages on her back.

"Lobelia says it's necessary for me to lie like this." Bilbo mutters from where her face presses into the pillow.

"I'm so sorry for what happened Bilbo. The men who did it, one of them was the thief who stabbed me. They must have followed me and when they saw you…"

"You're leaving now." It's not a question.

"Yes, the rangers have prolonged their stay as long as they can. But I fear that we've only tainted our relationship here. That woman Lobelia is the only reason your father allowed me to see you now."

"I'll be staying here from now on. I cannot go home to my father again."

"Do you blame him?"

"You should go before the rangers leave without you." Aragorn comes to kneel beside the bed, lifting a calloused thumb to stroke across her cheek. There is no smile on his face, no gleam in his eyes as he lifts her face for a kiss. She wants him to say that everything will be okay, that it's nobody's fault, that she will be okay and that this is all just a very vivid nightmare. But he doesn't.

He pulls back with a grim expression on her face as he lifts his thumb to stroke across her cheek. And then he is gone with a sweep of his cloak and tromp of his muddy boots.

"Do you want anything at all?" Lobelia asks.

"No, Lobelia. Just let me sleep." Lobelia puts tea on the nightstand anyway.

For weeks all Bilbo does is sleep. She wakes up to allow Lobelia to slip some tea, some food between her lips and to clean up her bandages. It's on the eighth week that she gets up, gripping her stomach to wander towards the bathroom.

"Bilbo? What is going on?" Lobelia demands as she pushes past her. She can't speak for the sharp pains going through her stomach. All she can manage is a groan as she closes the door shut behind her and scrambles for the toilet. She sits for a long time, her breathing uneven and punctuated by groans of pain. But nothing happens and eventually she stands up, wandering back towards her room.

"My stomach hurts but nothing is happening." Bilbo groans.

"Probably just your times getting ready to happen. Take a bath and maybe that will help." Lobelia suggests and with a final look at her goes to the bathroom.

It works for a while until Bilbo goes to get dressed. She feels thicker than normal, her skin puffy. She struggles with her trousers, loosening them until finally she sighs and begs Lobelia to bring her a skirt.

"What's wrong with your trousers?" Lobelia demands as Bilbo tugs the skirt on.

"No, this one is still too tight." She feels tears threatening to spill from her eyes as she tosses the skirt aside. Lobelia is the one who looks sick now as she mumbles to Bilbo that she'll go and look again.

* * *

By the time she's deemed well enough to be out of bed the cramps have lessened but have been replaced by throbbing headaches. Bilbo sits down outside, grimacing at the sun shining down and tries to block out the screeches of fauntlings, the laughter and gossip of the hobbit ladies.

For the past few weeks Lobelia hasn't stopped throwing her strange looks, mumbling to herself and shaking her head any time that Bilbo does something. Lobelia gives her a strange look now, hands planted on her hips and her lips thin as she nods towards a figure next to her. It's a man, towering over them and leaning against his staff as he looks down at her.

"Bilbo this is Gandalf, an old friend of your mother's. I was hoping that maybe he could help us."

"Help us with what?"

"Lobelia informs me that you could be with child." Bilbo blinks as the world begins spinning, searching for something, anything to grab onto. The last thing she hears is Lobelia's screech and Gandalf calling her name as everything goes black.

When she wakes up her head is still throbbing and now her vision is fuzzy as she stares up at the ceiling. Sitting beside the bed is Gandalf, his expression apologetic.

"How did Lobelia find you?"

"She didn't find me; a ranger by the name of Strider searched for me and sent me here. He informed me that he had met a hobbit by the name of Bilbo Baggins and asked if I would check on you. When I asked your father he said that you were now staying with Lobelia."

"Did this ranger tell you about what happened? Or my father…?"

"Lobelia told me of what happened. You are with child Bilbo Baggins and this will not be an easy pregnancy. To carry a child that is half hobbit-half human will put an enormous strain on your body. But you will not be enduring this alone."

"Can you promise that I will survive the pregnancy?"

"If you cooperate and do what we tell you and you do not allow the gossip of others to upset you—I believe that this can be a safe pregnancy."

* * *

Pregnancy Bilbo quickly finds is not always such a pleasant thing. The cramps fade away along with the headaches, replaced instead by the nausea and morning sickness. She spends many days lying in bed and staring at the tea and dry bread that Lobelia has put there. During those mornings she thinks a lot. About her father, wondering if Bungo was angry at himself, at her. About her mother, wondering if Belladonna was watching this happen, what she would have thought.

She thinks about her father's lies, wondering if she should be angrier at him than she already is. About Aragorn with the rangers. There are no promises between them, nothing to keep him tied to her. There is nothing left by him except for the child growing in her womb.

The child who seems like it can't decide how it wants to grow, torn between growing fast and making her skin stretch and her stomach swell. And torn between growing slowly, giving the occasional ghost of a kick, a small stretch.

The child who announces their entrance into the world with a small cry, limbs flailing angrily as Gandalf and Lobelia announce it's a boy. Bilbo lays there in the bed, skin soaked with sweat and gulping mouthfuls of air as she tries to dig her way through the fog of her mind. A boy, lying on her chest, covered in blood and amniotic fluid. A baby. Her baby. Aragorn's baby. Theirs. Frodo.

Frodo grows quicker than most of the children his age which Gandalf reassures her is normal and not to worry. He is a gentle albeit adventurous baby, eager to do things. Bilbo gets the first taste of his adventurousness when Frodo is able to crawl and makes his way around Lobelia's smial, squealing with distress as they finally catch him.

There's not much of Aragorn in him except for how rapidly he grows. More of him belongs to Bilbo from the top of his curly head, the chubby thighs and furred feet. Bilbo and Lobelia watch and wait for any signs of wings. He gets fevers but they break and he returns to his usual, cheerful self. Until he turns six and then the fever won't go down, won't break.

For days Frodo lies in bed on his stomach, sweat covering his skin and his face flushed red. Bilbo sits by him, dabbing his forehead and back with a cool washcloth. Gandalf arrives in time to see his shoulder blades swelling up. In the living room of Lobelia's smial relatives gather to drop off gifts, all of them asking about the progress. And each time Lobelia orders them away, telling them she will get them when it happens.

It happens in the middle of the night. Frodo sits up suddenly with a shriek, nearly startling both Gandalf and Bilbo from their chairs. Bilbo grabs hold of Frodo's hands, watching worriedly as he squeezes her fingertips purple. Gandalf stands on Frodo's other side, watching his shoulders. Frodo's screams echo throughout the wing as he squeezes tighter and tighter. There's a cracking sound and Frodo stops his screaming to pant.

Bilbo sits silent, watching as the tips of wings break through Frodo's skin. There is no gray, no red or blue, no speckles dotting the wings. They're a rich brown, nearly black and larger than she expects them to be. Bilbo watches stunned as the wings emerge, remaining still and dripping fluid.

"Gandalf…"

"Those are the kings of a wing."

* * *

Yes, I ended it there and I am way too proud of that line. I hope you've all enjoyed this story :3


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